Hannah and the Highlander (15 page)

“He shall emerge by lunch.” Fergus attempted a smile. An unsuccessful smile.

“I would like to speak to him now.”

Fergus' lips flapped. His gaze whipped from her to Andrew, who shrugged. The factor's chin firmed. “No one interrupts the laird when he is working. And no one is allowed in the study.”

“No one is
allowed
in the study?” Irritation bubbled through her. She'd never liked being told no. Never in her life had she been
forbidden
from doing something, especially something so … simple. She didn't like the prospect of being prohibited from visiting a room in her new home, and on her first day in residence, no less. She shot a glare at Lana, whose eyes widened. She might have mouthed the words,
Oh dear
.

“Alexander is a verra busy man.” Andrew offered a much more successful smile, but likely he'd had more practice. “When he's not checking in with crofters, he spends most mornings closed up in the study getting through the bulk of the work. We've all learned not to bother him until later in the day. It is best if you wait for him to be available. In the meantime, may I show you around the castle?” He extended an arm.

While Hannah was not pleased, she sensed the men would not budge on this. And the castle was so enormous, if she attempted to find this mysterious study on her own she would probably get lost. Clearly, the best approach would be to take the offered tour and discover the study along the way.

It would, most likely, be the one room they didn't show her.

“I would love that. Thank you, Andrew.”

Apparently, her brother-in-law was more devious than she gave him credit for, or perhaps he had deduced her intentions. For as he showed her around her new home, with Fergus trailing along, interjecting the few facts her husband's brother had omitted about this room or that, there wasn't so much as a glimpse of the mysterious study. There were certainly no rooms they skipped.

But the castle was old, a meandering warren of hallways and wings. It would have been easy to deliberately skip one section or another with a visitor being none the wiser. Beyond that, Hannah had the distinct impression Andrew was leading her in circles. She resolved that she would make herself a map of the sprawling building and conduct a search on her own at some point in the future.

She would discover Alexander's secret hideaway and she would beard him there.

When they finished with the tour of the castle—or, at the very least, when Andrew had tired of the roundabout—they moved on to the castle grounds. As Lana skipped toward the stables with Fergus in her wake, Hannah held back a bit. Andrew, perforce, slowed his pace as well, though it was obvious he very much wanted to hie after Lana.

Too bad.

Not only was Hannah determined to scuttle any opportunities for those two to be alone together; she also wanted to talk to Andrew. If she couldn't speak to her husband, she could learn more about him from his brother. She hooked her arm in his and smiled up at him.

He blinked in surprise. Why he blinked in surprise was a mystery. She had not been precisely curt to him this morning.

Well, maybe a little.

“Thank you so much for giving up your time for us this morning,” she purred.

His Adam's apple worked. He scuttled a glance around them and tried to untangle his arm. She didn't allow it. “It, ah, it was my pleasure, my lady. We all want you to feel at home here.”

“Hmm.”

“And do you?”

“Do I?”

“Feel at home?”

She studied him for a moment. “It is far too early to tell.”

His lashes flickered. “Alexander has gone out of his way to make you welcome.”

“I'm sure he has.” Redecorating her rooms, for one thing. “On that … May I ask you a … personal question?”

Though the stable was shaded from the sun, cool and welcoming, Hannah didn't step inside. Lana gave out a squeal as she discovered a clutch of newly born puppies squirming in one stall and rushed for it. Hannah preferred to remain where she was. This conversation was far too important.

“You may ask me anything.” He said this without hesitation, but his cheeks went a little pale.

“Your brother … he doesna speak much.”

“Ach
.
” Andrew gusted a laugh and scrubbed his face. “That. Nae, he doesna. He never has.”

“He writes me letters. About everything.”

“He is far more at ease with the written word.”

Her brow wrinkled at that, but she let her curiosity go in favor of her indignation. “I'm his wife.”

“I'm his brother. I still get a letter every morning.”

Hannah paled. She had this to look forward to? “Every morning?”

Andrew grinned. “You'll get used to it, I'm sure.”

“I would much prefer a conversation.”

“You may find it one-sided. Alexander is not a man of many words.”

“So I've noticed.” She pursed her lips.

Andrew's chin firmed. “But doona make the mistake of confusing his silence with indifference. He cares. Verra deeply. About everything.”

“I'm sure he does.” Remarkably, lightning did not strike her dead at the lie. Nor did the stable burst into flames at the dryness of her tone.
Astonishing.

Andrew set his hand on her shoulder. “Be patient with him. Alexander is a complicated man.”

Now this was true.

“Will he ever speak to me?”

“Of course. As he relaxes. As he gets to know you. But he will never
blether
on. He's not much of a
bletherer
.”

That was some consolation, she supposed. She'd never cared much for
blethering
. But the occasional chat would be nice.

As Lana finished snuggling the puppies and they moved on to inspect the mill, another question nagged at Hannah.

“Andrew?”

“Aye, my lady?”

“Why did he marry me?”

Andrew's friendly expression closed down. “That, my lady, is a question you shall have to ask him.”

It took great effort not to growl at Andrew's disobliging response.

Still, the sound she made, deep in her throat, could easily have been interpreted as one.

*   *   *

Alexander's fingers tightened on the sill as he stared from the window of the turret down at the stable yard. His office was situated in the old solar of an ancient Lochlannach baron and took up the whole of the top floor of the tower. The room was circular and had windows on either side, so the laird could survey the north and south.

Unfortunately, that meant he had a clear view of the stable yard. And Andrew. With Hannah.

It was illogical for Alexander to be jealous of his brother as he guided his new wife around the castle grounds.
He
could have done as much—he was her groom, after all—but fear had sent him scurrying from her bed and up into his office.

Not that last night hadn't been the most splendid experience of his life. It had. She had sated him in ways he'd not known he required sating.

He'd awoken at dawn and stared down at her delicate features, stroking the lines of her face with a gentle finger, frightened to death that she would awake. That those eyes would flutter open and she would gaze up at him and
speak
. If she spoke to him, he would have to respond. The prospect made his blood go cold.

Frustration and rage lashed at him. He hated the demon that clung to him with sharp, hoary claws. How he would love to be free of it, but he didn't know how to break the chains.

In his naivety, he'd thought after having her, loving her, the ball in his throat would dissolve, the words would flow. He had imagined that once they'd joined, they would be as one.

That had not happened. The opposite, in fact. The closer he'd come to her, the more his emotion and need for her flowered, the worse his affliction had become.

Ah, how he wanted to be with her, spend every moment with her. But therein lay the danger. He couldn't guard his words forever. Sooner or later he would slip. Sooner or later she would discover the truth, or suspect it. He was frightened to death that when she found out about his past, his weakness, his curse, she would be revolted. She'd married him thinking he was a strong, indomitable protector. He dreaded the day when she discovered what he really was.

So he'd slunk away to his tower office—a room that had once been his sanctuary but right now felt very much like a prison. Or maybe his fear was the real prison.

He'd slunk away to hide from her, this magnificent woman who had so completed him the night before. He'd left her, ostensibly to work.

But the work, or his concentration, at the very least, had evaded him.

He could only think of her.

And when he'd wandered to the window for a breath of fresh air, there she was, in the bailey, with Andrew. Chatting. As though conversation was not the most difficult thing in the world.

Then again, to the two of them, it wasn't.

Alexander wanted nothing more than to spend time with her.

And he feared nothing more.

Facing an enormous man wielding a tremendous sword? Not a problem.

Grappling with the tangled and bitter spats of his people? Simple.

Figuring out a way to repurpose an unproductive field for a better yield? Child's play.

The prospect of
speaking
to his wife? A terror.

As ridiculous as it was to try to hide it, he dreaded her reaction.

Though they'd only been married a day, somehow suddenly he couldn't bear the thought of losing her respect. Someday, and someday soon, he would have to tell her. Tell her everything. But not today.

With a growl of frustration he turned back to his desk and stilled. A small bundle sat in his chair, swinging her legs. She grinned up at him and he couldn't help but respond.

“Fiona.”

She knew she wasn't supposed to visit him in the mornings, but most days she did. He didn't have the inclination to tell her to stop coming. Her vulnerability made his heart ache. And he enjoyed her company.

Truth be told, his turret tower did get lonely on occasion.

Not bothering with a greeting, Fiona wrinkled her nose. “Wh-why did you … do it?”

“Do what?” Although he knew. Or he had a very good idea.

“M-marry her?”

“Ach. My wee lass.” He lifted her up and sat in his chair, settling her on his knee.

“Wh-why?”

“She's … verra lovely.”

Fiona's features scrunched up.

“It was time I took a bride.”

“She's …
old
.”

Alexander barked a laugh. “Old enough for an ancient creature like me?”

“You're not old.” Fiona patted his cheek. “You-you're p-perfect.”

“I'm too old for you, lass.”

She didn't care for this in the slightest. “Do-do you like her?”

“I … like her verra much.” More than he expected he would. More than he should, after one night.

Fiona humphed and wriggled off his lap. “Well, f-fine then.”

“Will you … be nice to her? For me?”

She surveyed him somberly for quite some time and then, at long last, nodded. “I … suppose.”

“I would like that. Th-thank you, my lady.” With great pomp, he lifted her tiny hand and kissed it. She went beet red to the tips of her ears and ducked her face so he couldn't see her smile, but he saw it anyway.

A great and welling joy filled his heart.

He loved children. Ached for children of his own. And maybe, last night, he and his wife had made one.

He could only pray this was the case.

Fiona deserved a playmate.

*   *   *

Hannah's husband spent the entire day in his study—wherever it was. She tried not to let her displeasure reign. She spent the afternoon with Lana exploring the grounds around the castle and chatting with some of the people she'd met at her welcome; she found them all to be quite pleasant. To her delight, she discovered a broad terrace running the length of the castle in the back, which overlooked Dunnet Bay. The little town of Dunnet, which she could see from a distance, seemed charming as well. She looked forward to exploring it.

She had the sense that she could be very happy here. If, of course, her concerns about her husband could be set to rest. She had great hopes for dinner tonight.

As she and Lana descended the stairs that evening, the emotion seething within Hannah tasted a little like desperation. She attempted to swallow it down.

Fergus showed them to the sitting room. It was a charming chamber, wood paneled, speckled with comfortable chairs and lit by a welcoming fire, but Hannah hardly noticed. She was a bundle of nerves, anticipating the chance to finally speak to her husband at length.

Andrew arrived first, sauntering into the room like a conquering hero come to dinner. His gaze locked on to Lana and warmed. “My ladies.” He bowed over both their hands, though Hannah noticed he lingered over Lana's. His attention, and something in his expression, made irritation riffle through Hannah. When their eyes met and he took in her speaking expression, he flinched and paled, but only a little.

He did, however, loosen his hold on Lana.

When Dunnet arrived, all thoughts of Hannah's annoyance with his brother faded. Her breath caught. Dunnet was so handsome in his plaid, so striking, it made her heart ache. As he approached her, her pulse rushed in her ears. When he took her hand in his and bent over it, a shiver ran through her. “My lady,” he whispered, as his gaze locked to hers.

And then he kissed her.

Oh, only lips pressed to the back of her hand, but it sent a sizzle up her arm and straight to her womb.

Her mouth opened. Then closed. She couldn't form a word, or a cogent thought, to save her life.

Before Dunnet had a chance to sit, Fergus bustled into the room and announced that dinner was served in the small dining room. His tone brooked no denial and Hannah decided that while she would have preferred a chance to talk in this casual setting, a dinner conversation would do.